


At the Order of Myths Ball

by Muccamukk



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Dancing, Light Angst, Missing Scene, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:21:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24204298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muccamukk/pseuds/Muccamukk
Summary: "I told Mary," Sid said, voice blurry with rum, "I told her, I said, 'I'll get Eugene Sledge on that dance floor if I haveta lead him myself!' and she said she'd like to see that, and here we are."
Relationships: Mary Houston/Sidney "Sid" Phillips, Sidney "Sid" Phillips/Eugene Sledge
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21
Collections: Heavy Artillery: The Pacific Tenth Anniversary Comment Fest, Loose Lips Sink Ships Prompt Meme





	At the Order of Myths Ball

**Author's Note:**

> For Heavy Artillery's The Pacific Tenth Anniversary Comment Fest, prompt: Sledge/Sid - dancing together at the ball.
> 
> Also for Loose Lips Sink Ships prompt: The only way Sid can get Gene to dance at the ball is to do it himself. 
> 
> Thank you to ThrillingDetectiveTales for reading it over.

If Eugene started walking now, he reckoned he'd make it home just as the sun was rising. He pictured it, the long walk through streets that were just country dark, not blacked out by the war everyone inside seemed to want to forget, the woods, the silence. The birds would be waking as he crossed the last bridge, every familiar sound of his childhood filling his ears. He twisted the stem of his pipe between his fingers and imagined leaving.

Instead, he headed back inside, looking for another glass of punch. He'd never been one to turn to alcohol, before, but the glass had been sweet and cool when Sid had given it to him, and the rum had blurred his thoughts a little.

True to his word, Sid was still dancing with Mary, but he didn't seem to mind it like his tone had implied. Edward was dancing too, with a masked woman that Eugene didn't think was Martha, but he couldn't say as he remembered what she'd been wearing. It was too bad, really, that only the women wore masks these days. Eugene thought he could just about use one.

He turned to the glass in his hands, tracing the beads of condensation with the tip of his finger until they joined and trickled down to the stem. _And never pass a supply of clean water_ , he thought, ridiculously, and it seemed, for a moment as though the music faded, and all he could hear was the sun parched voice of a man two-years dead. They'd buried him in Arlington, Eugene had heard, where he deserved to be.

The voice at his shoulder startled him, and he almost dropped the glass.

"Looks like you still need help finding a partner." Sid said, and threw his arm around Eugene's shoulders, pulling him into a half embrace but keeping his body away so that he could dodge if Eugene tried to sock him in the ribs. He smelled like too much cologne and pressed wool, and starch, and his cheeks were pink with exertion and with drink. With his face half turned to look at Eugene, their mouths were inches apart. Eugene could have gotten drunk off the fumes of his breath, or the proximity.

Eugene had long since worked out that he was the only one who noticed when that kind of thing happened. Thank God for that, at least. He didn't know what he'd do if Sid realised how often Eugene stared at his lips, how he sometimes licked his own because his mouth was as dry as it had been on Peleliu. If Sid knew, Eugene would have to stop, and he didn't think he could.

"Well?" Sid demanded. He grabbed the back of Eugene's neck and shook it like he was a dog, and all Eugene could think was how soft his hands had gotten. But there was a question there too.

"Naw, I'm all right," Eugene said reflexively.

"No you ain't!"

Before he knew what was happening, Sid had plucked Eugene's punch glass out of his hand, tossed it back, and was leading him towards the dance floor.

"Come on, you greaser," Eugene protested, trying to wriggle out of Sid's grip, but Sid had hold of his collar and his jacket, and besides, how much did Eugene want to get away, really?

"I told Mary," Sid said, voice blurry with rum, "I told her, I said, 'I'll get Eugene Sledge on that dance floor if I haveta lead him myself!' and she said she'd like to see that, and here we are."

A slow song was already playing, and Sid's hand slid from Eugene's collar to his shoulder, and his other hand caught Eugene's, and then he started to sway to the beat. If Eugene didn't want to get his feet stepped on, he was going to have to run or follow.

Resting his hand on Sid's hip, he followed, steps backwards, and mind spinning. "People are staring," he said, but he didn't know if that was true. He couldn't take his eyes off the shell of Sid's ear and the blond curls behind it.

"Let 'em," Sid answered. They'd learned the fox trot and the waltz together as boys, and Sid had always been better at it, been able to turn rings around Eugene.

"You ain't worried 'bout your reputation?" That came too close to the truth, but maybe Eugene had had a little too much punch, too.

Sid just laughed, voice as confident and easy as his dance steps, and Eugene felt fury rising in him, flushing his face hot with anger not drink. Of course a married man, a darling boy, a uniformed Marine didn't have to worry. Why would he?

Eugene started to twist out of Sid's grip, but Sid yanked him closer, so close their chests pressed against each other, and Eugene had to slot his chin over Sid's shoulder so their faces didn't smash together. Christ, he wanted their faces to smash together, or to punch Sid right in the mouth for doing this to him.

"They don't care if it's in fun," Sid whispered into Eugene's ear, tone suddenly serious.

"I care," Eugene answered hotly.

"Come on!" Sid tried to get them moving again, but that just meant rocking his hips side to side against Eugene's, and that was going to make the situation irreparable in short order. Eugene tried again to jerk away from him, but for all that his hands had turned soft, Sid still had a grip like steel. "Be a sport!" Sid hissed.

"Ain't gonna," Eugene snapped back. "I ain't your sport, and I don't wanna dance if it's just in fun, okay?"

How he'd kept his voice down amazed him almost as much as the realisation of what he'd actually said. Eugene gasped, and perversely clung to Sid, his heart had about stopped in his chest, and all he could do then was pray that Sid was too drunk to pick up what he'd meant, though of course Eugene's reaction to his confession only lit the whole thing like a star flare. No, Eugene was utterly exposed, and there could be no hiding from this.

Sid's breath was wet against his ear, and he was a little unsteady on his feet for a moment, but then he started to move with the music, and all Eugene could do was follow. He relaxed into Sid's hold, tired of fighting, still praying that nothing would come of his words. Why wouldn't this damn song end?

"Not funning you," Sid whispered. His grip on Eugene's shoulder had lightened as they'd stopped struggling, and now his thumb rubbed back and forth across the point of Eugene's shoulder.

Eugene shook his head. It wasn't fair that Sid could still do this to him. He pulled back a little to make room for the Holy Ghost, and when he did the look in Sid's eyes made him wish he'd kept his chin on Sid's shoulder. He was so damn serious. "You haveta be," Eugene protested.

"I ain't, Eugene," Sid insisted, then repeated himself, as if the duplication would make Eugene more likely to believe him. "I ain't. I wouldn't, not about this, not with you. I just meant people will see what they want to."

"Oh, hell." Eugene couldn't think what to say to that admission. He wanted to ask Sid how long he'd known, but couldn't, not here. He wanted to ask Sid a lot of things, but then the damn song finally wound to a close.

Sid stepped away from Eugene, still holding onto his hand, and twisted his grip so that he wound up holding just Eugene's fingers. He bowed smartly from the hips, and for a dizzying second Eugene thought Sid might kiss his hand, but then Sid let go and stepped away, face lit up in laughter. It was the same look that crinkled his eyes when they'd just gotten away with some marvellous prank, usually involving antagonising Sid's sister.

Eugene pulled his jacket straight and glared, and Sid tried to force his expression to something more sombre, but the laughter kept sneaking through to turn his mouth up again.

"That ain't fair," Eugene said softly, still angry, still unsure what Sid had meant.

"Suppose it weren't," Sid agreed, but he looped his arm through Eugene's and drew him out towards the front door, "but what the hell kind of a Marine fights fair?"

Unable to argue that point, and wanting to find some cooler air, Eugene went along with him with only a token, "We going somewhere?"

Once he asked the question a frisson of possibility filled him. Sid had very nearly just kissed him, he thought. He already knew that if Sid wanted to go find a quiet part of the woods, Eugene would follow him eagerly, had wanted to follow him for years.

"Thought we might head back to mine," Sid told him, like it was no big thing. "Mary said she was about ready to go."

"Mary Houston Phillips," Eugene said, trying to put all of his reservations into that name. "The woman who loves you."

"She is indeed," Sid agreed proudly, but without the finality Eugene thought should come tied up with recent wedding vows.

The cool night air hit both their faces. Sid hadn't let up his hold on Eugene's arm.

Eugene thought again about walking home, about the silence of pressing through the night until the birds sang in the dawn. He thought about maybe keeping walking until he washed up someplace new, where not one soul knew him.

"Come on, Eugene," Sid wheedled, and Eugene knew he was cooked.

"Okay," Eugene said. "Let's go."


End file.
